A Nightmare
by dolphinrain
Summary: This is a re-write of my Lost World Nightmare story. Ned is tortured in a bad way by some nasty people. He will need the help of his friends to recover, physically and emotionally. A Mature rating for nudity, torture and male rape.


Nightmare by dolphinrain

(Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Lost World and am writing for the fun of it. All of my stories are written with the hope of keeping interest in The Lost World alive and because I just love these characters.

I am giving this story a mature rating for some content.

Chapter One:

This was a nightmare. It had to be for he could never have imagined his life like this. There was only darkness as he had lost all sense of day or night with the blindfold over his eyes. It seemed there had always been metal cuffs on his wrists. Hunger and thirst had become constant companions. His world had shrunk to one of pain and humiliation along with the constant cold. He couldn't remember when he'd last had on any clothing or the last time he'd eaten. He was barely fighting them any longer...whoever they were no longer mattered...it was pointless to fight back any more as it only brought on more pain.

He heard heavy footsteps approach and he groaned inwardly as he was once again lead to the metal frame with his wrists and ankles spread to be chained. He tried to bring any pleasant image to his mind but he no longer could. There was almost no warning before the whip stung his back reopening the wounds already present. He wondered what he had ever done to bring this on himself or if his tormentors would ever grow tired of this. He had tried to fight back on more than one occasion but he would be whipped and sometimes left here, hanging in the chains. Sometimes there was the unbearable pain as rods were forced into him in places where they didn't belong. The first time they did that he thought he was being split in half by red hot pokers and had screamed himself hoarse. He had begged them to stop but they had only laughed at him.

Then a strange sound reached his ears...was that an explosion? He knew that sound, didn't he? He heard angry shouts, a second explosion and the whip suddenly ceased. As long as the whipping stopped he didn't care what the explosions could mean. He sighed with relief and turned to rest his head in his shoulder vaguely wondering if there was any skin left on his back. Then there were loud popping noises very close to him...gunshots?

There were voices shouting a name. Male and female voices that sounded familiar, with one female voice he knew well calling the name Ned. Was that his name? It had seemed so long since he'd heard it he had almost forgotten he had a name. The female voice came close to him followed by a second female voice. There was a man's voice full of anger...but the anger didn't seem directed at him...

When he felt a gentle hand touch his cheek he tried to turn away as he expected a blow. But he heard the female voices talking softly to him and he turned his face into the caress. How he had longed for a gentle touch instead of the fists and that cursed whip. There was no pain with this touch and he thought he must finally be dreaming for he had abandoned the idea of being rescued. He felt the blindfold being undone but he couldn't open his eyes.

He felt his wrists being released from the cuffs then his ankles were released. Strong arms held him as he collapsed without the chains to support his weight. Rough hands touched him and he couldn't help flinching with a small whimper. There was a mumbled apology...the same man's voice as before but not as angry...as he was carefully lowered to the floor. He flinched and grimaced as his back touched the floor and he was turned onto his side with his head coming to rest in a lap. A hand with soft warm skin held one of his and a blanket was laid over his shivering form. He gripped the blanket and tears fell from his eyes... this was the first warmth he had felt in far too long. He had begun to doubt if he'd ever feel warmth or tenderness again.

The soft female voices were asking him to open his eyes. He couldn't! He was terrified if he did that this warmth would fade and he'd still be trapped in his nightmare. The voices persisted as he felt cool water on his lips and he tried to gulp at it. Another man's voice gently cautioned him not to drink so fast.

Finally, he couldn't resist the temptation and he carefully opened one eye. At first his vision was blurry and unfocused but when he could see he found himself peering into a face he knew, the face of a beautiful brunette. He knew her, didn't he? But there was something wrong for there were tears in her eyes. He didn't think he'd ever seen her cry... she always seemed so strong and formidable.

He turned his head to see whose lap he was in and saw another face he knew very well. This was the face he had seen in his darkest moments...with her sun-bleached hair and sky-blue eyes. She was smiling at him through tear-filled eyes and calling him Ned.

He wanted to ask her what was wrong...he wanted to comfort her. But he couldn't seem to form any words. He could feel darkness encroaching and he willingly let it take him.

Chapter Two:

When consciousness returned the first thing he was aware of was warmth and he was lying on something soft. He felt no metal on his wrists or ankles, only soft material touching his skin and he slowly opened his eyes.

He thought he must be dreaming as this was his own room in the Treehouse. Fractured memories came to him as he tried to sit up. Pain lanced across his injured back and he shut his eyes as he lay back down. Images came to his mind, faces of friends old and new mixed with more recent images he wanted to forget.

"Finally you're awake," a man's voice startled him and he looked up to see Roxton had come into the room.

Ned stared at the hunter as the older man sat down in the chair beside his bed. He knew Roxton was his friend but he wasn't sure if his friend was really here or if he was dreaming the hunter was here. There was a cup in Roxton's hand that he set upon the nightstand.

"I'm sorry if I startled you, Ned," Roxton said as he slowly sat down. The hunter had to remind himself to move slowly for he felt at times that he was approaching a wounded animal rather than his friend. He could see hints of recognition in Ned's eyes mixed with pain and confusion.

Ned just continued to stare at him and tried to sit up once more. Moving slowly Roxton reached to prop pillows behind the journalist to lean against. Ned's eyes wandered from the hunter to the cup that was sitting on the nightstand.

"Are you thirsty, Ned?" Roxton asked as he held out the cup. Seeing the suspicion he took a small sip himself. "It's just water, see?"

Ned nodded and lifted a hand to take the cup from him. That was when he saw the bandage wrapped around his wrist. He looked down at himself and saw the myriad of bandaging wrapped around his body. That was when Ned truly realized he hadn't dreamed everything...it wasn't just a nightmare. A small part of his mind kept telling him it didn't really happen... But seeing the bandages made reality set in. He let the cup slip from his hand and he broke down.

_Decorum be damned,_ Roxton thought as he carefully slid onto the bed and took his friend into his arms. For a moment Ned tensed at the close touch but slowly he relaxed as he finally felt safe. Roxton was relieved that his friend didn't resist. The hunter held the journalist as he wept.

"I'm so sorry for all of this, Ned," the hunter said as his friend drifted back to sleep. "I'm sorry that I couldn't prevent this or that we didn't find you sooner. But I promise that the ones who did this to you won't harm another soul. And I swear I'll help you any way I can. You have Lord John Roxton's word."

Chapter Three:

Ned lay awake in his bed listening to the sounds of the jungle creatures and feeling the gentle breeze that drifted in from the open window. He was alone for the moment and he was enjoying the peace. Ever since the other explorers had brought him back to the Treehouse he was rarely left alone. He had yet to speak to them but he just couldn't seem to form any words.

The four people with him told him they were his friends. While he felt this was true, he was still having difficulty at times discerning his nightmare with reality. He lost count of how many times he woke up screaming incoherently. There were times he couldn't tell if he was here in the Treehouse or if he was still in the chains. He kept a blanket wrapped around himself as he imagined he still felt the cold. There were times he would be so caught up in his nightmare he would try to run. He would push past his friends in a panic trying to reach the elevator. On one occasion, Roxton had had to tackle him to prevent him from jumping over the balcony to escape. When Roxton grabbed him he screamed in a blind panic and tried to hit the hunter. He couldn't see or hear his friends...all he heard was the mocking laughter of his tormenters ...he could almost feel them touching him. It had taken all four of his friends to hold him down until Challenger was able to give him a sedative. That had been the worst of his waking nightmares as Challenger called it but not the only one.

The first time they gave him something to eat, he tried to eat so fast he nearly made himself sick. He couldn't remember when he had eaten last and was afraid if he didn't eat quickly the food would be taken from him. The ones who had hurt him would do that often. They would bring a piece of fruit or meat to his mouth only to snatch it away. Challenger had threatened to take it from him unless he slowed down. Without having told any of the explorers what had happened, Ned knew they were only looking out for him but it was a struggle to force himself to slow down.

His memories slowly returned to him as the fog lifted from his brain. He remembered being near a pond and hearing children screaming. When he had gone to investigate he had been furious to see three very young children being dragged along by several filthy looking men. The children were dressed entirely different from the adults and were clearly terrified. Ned had followed the group until they had stopped to make a camp. He had made his way carefully into the camp and untied the children. That was when he had been spotted. As the children fled into the jungle, he had turned to confront the men. The children had managed to get away but he hadn't.

The men were slavers and he had just cost them a substantial amount of money. They had told him they would make him pay for their loss. He had tried to fight with them, but there were too many of them. There had come the blindfold and the chains on his wrists. They had forced him to march for how long, he had no idea. It had been a struggle not to stumble but each time he did, he was either hit or kicked until they ordered him to halt. When they tried to remove his clothing and his watch, he again tried to fight with them. He had managed to kick one of them before he had been chained to the frame. After that came the whip and the cold. He did remember asking for water at one point. They had forced so much water down his throat, he thought he would drown. Then they had punched his stomach until he threw up. After that he didn't ask again. The worst had been when they forced metal rods into him. He didn't think he had ever screamed so loud or felt so much pain in his life.

He had nearly convinced himself that this was only a very bad nightmare. He had begun to lose his sense of reality and reason and had begun to wish for his own death rather than continue. It had seemed almost unreal when his friends had finally found him. While he was relieved they found him, at the same time it was humiliating for them to see him this way.

He had been awake while his back was tended and had hid his face in the blanket beneath himself to keep from screaming. Roxton had needed to hold him down more than once as his back was cleaned and salves applied to the whipmarks to help prevent infection from setting in. When they had lifted the blanket from his waist, they had seen the blood on his legs and knew what had happened to him. He had tried to push them away. Challenger had looked ill.

It was Marguerite who had been strong enough to clean him. She remained calm and gentle with him, leaning in close to talk to him. She had whispered she understood his pain and fear, and when he looked into her eyes, he saw someone who truly seemed to understand his pain. Somehow she managed to penetrate his foggy mind. She had held him tenderly when he broke down and sobbed. She held him until he again passed out.

Veronica was with him almost constantly. She would read to him from books from her parents' shelves or from his own journals. At first he couldn't remember having written in them. She persisted until he did. There were tears threatening in her eyes as she stayed with him. He wanted to tell her he was fine, or be the one to comfort her. He hated being the cause of her tears but he couldn't seem to form any words. He hadn't spoken since he'd been beaten after asking for water and seemed to have lost his voice.

Veronica told him the three children he'd helped were Zanga. They had wandered from their village preoccupied with playing and chasing a tiny dinosaur. When Ned hadn't returned that day, the explorers had gone to look for him. They had found the three children and returned them to their village. That was when they had learned what had happened. Jarl and several of his best warriors had agreed to help find and rescue the journalist. They had tracked the slavers to a small mining camp near the inland sea. The Zanga and the explorers had made certain not one slaver was left alive. There had been several other prisoners in the camp who had joined the fight as soon as they knew what was happening. Ned had shuddered to think of others being tormented as he had been.

Veronica told him, she didn't remember Roxton ever being so angry. Raptors were not as vicious as the hunter had been. Marguerite had demanded to see the leader of the slavers. The man had taunted the explorers, proud of his own handiwork. The brunette had told him, her friend was ten times the man that filthy slaver could ever hope to be and had calmly shot the man in the groin before putting a bullet between his eyes. Challenger had devised strong explosives to destroy the entire camp. Nothing would ever be used from it again and there was nothing even left for the scavengers.

Veronica had found Ned's belongings tossed in a heap in the hut Ned had been tortured in. His blue vest was the only article of his clothing she could salvage along with his boots, Colt 45 pistol, and his watch. When she returned the watch to him, Ned had finally smiled through the tears that formed.

His wrist was still wrapped in bandaging and he couldn't as yet put the watch on. It sat safely on the stand beside his bed. The watch, an American made Elgin, had been a gift from his parents just before he had left for London years ago and he had always felt connected to them through it. When the watch had been taken from him, he had felt he'd lost a large part of himself.

Challenger had been busy making salves for the wounds on his back and brewing herbal teas that would help prevent infections and to help him sleep. The scientist was at a loss how to help with Ned's inability to speak. He could find nothing physically wrong with Ned's throat other than being sore from screaming so much. Psychosomatic injuries were beyond his expertise. Challenger told Ned most of his physical injuries were healing well although there would remain a few scars on his back. But they wouldn't show under his shirt.

Assai and some of the Zanga came to help with the hunting and guarding the Treehouse while the explorers were preoccupied with Ned's recovery. They brought gifts the children had made for Ned to show their gratitude. The Zanga were calling Ned a brave hero for his actions.

Veronica and Marguerite had made him new clothes to replace the ones he had lost. But Ned nearly lost control when the soft material first touched his back. He had to fight to keep from slipping back into his nightmare whenever someone touched him. It was difficult at first to let the others help with his injuries and at first he had refused to let anyone near him. He vaguely remembered Roxton holding him at one point. Veronica was almost always near him when the nightmare gripped him but that was slowly lessening.

But most of all, he couldn't talk.

Chapter Four:

For weeks since returning to the Treehouse, Ned was terrified to step outside of his room. In here he felt safe; no one could reach him or hurt him here. The other explorers would bring him whatever he needed; his meals, journals, clean clothes…They had even brought a tub in for him to bathe in private. Challenger had rigged a pipe to the tub so he could use it whenever he wanted. He was terrified at the thought of anyone seeing him or even knowing when he was undressed. He had yet to look at himself in the mirror.

His friends would smile at him and tell him what was going on outside of his door. Ned had yet to answer them. He had stopped trying and none of the others knew exactly how to help him. With his emotions in such disarray, at first they were uncertain how to approach him. He had finally stopped doubting where he was, but now was the reality of living with what had happened to him. Ned knew he was being silly, that his friends had been nothing but patient with him. He saw only care and concern on their faces. There were no harsh words and no teasing.

Marguerite had been extremely gentle with him. More than any of the others, she truly seemed to understand what he was going through. She talked quietly when she brought him cups of coffee. She didn't tease or complain whenever he broke down. It disturbed him greatly to think something like this could have happened to any of his friends. He'd often wondered if he and Marguerite would have anything in common but he wished it could have been something far less traumatic.

He tried to smile back at his friends but it was quick and fleeting. He tried to write in his journals but he only stared at the blank pages as no words would come. How could he explain how he felt? He couldn't explain how he was afraid to leave his own room or how he couldn't talk. There were no words to describe his pain or the humiliation he felt for having allowed this to happen to himself…how weak he was for not having fought back harder. He wanted to talk…to shout…but he couldn't stop remembering the pain from the last time he had spoken. His friends had no idea how close he had been to giving into his tormentors; how he wanted to give them whatever they had wanted to stop the torment.

The first time Ned tried to leave his room, he was seized with a panic attack. His knees turned to rubber and he sank to the floor. Sometime later, Veronica came with his lunch and found him huddled on the floor beside his bed, his face buried in his arms. He pulled away violently from her when she touched his shoulder.

Ned saw the hurt in her eyes and he was ashamed of himself for causing it. He knew Veronica of all people would never hurt him and he had let her hold him. He wanted more than anything to return to their friendship before all this had happened. He couldn't tell her how ashamed he was of himself for not being able to stop what had happened to him…how weak he must seem to her.

The second time he tried to leave his room, he managed to reach the stairs leading to the main area of the Treehouse. This time Roxton saw him and silently urged the journalist on. The younger man gripped the railing so hard his knuckles turned white. He shook as he let go. When Ned saw Roxton, his face paled even more and he had hurried back into his room. Roxton just sighed and walked away. The hunter wished he knew how to help his friend.

Chapter Five:

It took time for Ned to finally leave his room. The journalist had been struggling with his own insecurity. This was the Treehouse he would reason with himself. The only ones here were his friends and he knew he could trust them. One morning, he woke with a start having been dreaming. He had dreamt of his time during the Great War, of the time he had been in the trenches with the three soldiers who he had watched die one by one. He recalled Sgt. Haskell's words to him: that he needed to live his life like it was worth something. Ned knew if he had remained in that trench, that he never would have survived. This was his trench now and if he wanted to survive he needed to leave.

So that morning, he washed and dressed and left his room. He took one step at a time, gripping the railing. It was slow going but he had made up his mind that once he started there would be no turning back. By the time he reached the top step, he was shaking and pale but he was proud of himself.

Marguerite was in the kitchen preparing a light lunch when she saw the journalist. She watched him silently as he turned to look at her. He returned the smile she offered him. It was a pale shadow of his normal grin, but she was glad to see it.

"Very nicely done, Ned," she told him. "But are you just going to stand there or would you like a cup of coffee?" There was nothing malicious in her tone, just friendly teasing as she gave him a gentle hug. For the first time since being brought home, he didn't tense and he returned the hug.

Once leaving his room, Ned didn't want to return. Marguerite did have him sit at the table and she brought him a cup of fresh brewed coffee. When the other men returned to the Treehouse for their lunch, they were delighted to see him. When he first heard the elevator, Ned had nearly bolted from his seat but he remained where he was and stayed through a quiet lunch.

Throughout the lunch, Ned wanted to ask where Veronica was. He hadn't seen her all day. Several times he opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it again without a sound. Challenger watched him struggle and finally set a piece of paper and a pen in front of the younger man.

"Why don't you write down what it is you want," the scientist said gently but firmly. "You need to start communicating with us. Ned, if you don't start, you might never. None of us can do this for you."

Ned stared at the pen for a few minutes. He looked up at the scientist as he felt his anxiety begin to rise. Ned felt silly: after all he was a reporter, a_ journalist,_ this shouldn't be so difficult. Finally he gripped the pen. His hand shook as he felt the weight of the pen and slowly wrote Veronica's name and a question mark. He looked at the name he had written and then up at his friend.

"She went to visit Assai," Challenger smiled at him. "She said she'd be back around lunchtime or a little after."

Ned nodded then again touched the pen to the paper. _More coffee, please?_ He wrote.

"I'm not the bloody waitress," Marguerite teased but she brought him one. "After this you will have to get it yourself."

"Where's mine?" Roxton asked with a smirk.

Ned handed him the piece of paper and Roxton chuckled. _No waitress._

The journalist moved to the balcony after lunch to clean his Colt 45 pistol. It felt good to be doing something useful again and the journalist felt he would be spending more time out of his room. He finally heard the elevator on its way up and smiled at the thought of seeing Veronica. But his smile faded when he saw Assai and another Zanga woman step off with her.

The blond girl was surprised to see him in the main area but she smiled at him. She gently hugged him as he stood up.

"I'm so glad to see you out of your room, Ned," she told him. "Because I've brought someone who has been asking to see you."

Marguerite and the other two men came into the area as a Zanga child cautiously stepped off the elevator. Ned nearly did bolt from his seat as he recognized the girl. He paled and shook slightly as Veronica squeezed his hand.

"This is Solana," Veronica introduced the Zanga woman. "And this is her daughter, Jaddax. Jaddax has been asking to see you, Ned Malone."

Solana spoke for several moments to Assai who nodded and translated. "Solana has been wanting to thank you in person for saving her daughter and the other two children from the slavers. But Jaddax has been having bad dreams about the trouble she feels she has caused. It was her idea to chase the dinosaur that lead to them and then you being captured."

Jaddax suddenly pulled away from her mother and flung her arms around Ned. She was crying and babbling as she held onto him. Ned grimaced as her hands brushed a still tender laceration on his shoulder but he didn't pull away or try to push the child away. Instead he hugged her back and looked to Veronica.

"She has been afraid you would be angry with her," Veronica translated the child's babbling." She has been afraid you would not wish to speak to her or be unable to forgive her."

Ned shook his head and peered into the child's face. How could this innocent child believe any of this was her fault? He turned her face toward his and shook his head, mouthing the word "No." But she was still crying.

He took a deep breath and there was a knot in his stomach as he felt his anxiety rising. But he finally spoke. "Not your fault." His voice was a whisper and somewhat hoarse from nonuse but Jaddax looked at him. "Bad people. Not your fault."

Veronica smiled as she translated for the child. After a moment the girl, smiled at them and hugged Ned again. He held her to him and wiped the tear streaked face.

"No more bad dreams," he told her. He hugged the child again. This was better medicine than any of Challenger's teas.

A short time later the Zanga prepared to leave. Jarl was waiting near the electric fence to escort the women home before dark. As they stepped into the elevator Jaddax waved goodbye and spoke again. Both Marguerite and Veronica tried to hold their laughter until after the Zanga left.

"What did Jaddax say?" Roxton asked.

"She said if she has any more bad dreams that she'll just dream her hero will save her," Veronica smiled at Ned. "Ned Malone, her handsome hero."

Veronica stayed in the kitchen to help clean and wash the dishes once dinner had been eaten. Challenger had returned to his lab while Roxton and Marguerite were gently arguing over whose turn it was to grind the coffee. She saw that Ned had disappeared.

It had been a long day but one of the best they'd had in some time. The journalist had taken huge steps today. He had pushed past most of his anxiety but had finally needed time alone. It had been so good to hear his voice again and to see him out of his room.

Veronica decided that the rest of the kitchen could wait. She made herself a cup of tea and headed for Ned's room. She slowly opened the door and peered inside. He was lying on his side on his bed and appeared to be asleep. There was an open journal on the chair beside him. She marked the page with a piece of ribbon and closed it. For the first time in weeks, his sleep seemed restful.

"You're my hero, too," she whispered as she leaned in to kiss his forehead.

Chapter Six:

Two days after the Zanga had visited Veronica was early in the kitchen preparing a light breakfast and she hurried to pack a lunch for her friends. She brewed a small amount of coffee for Marguerite and poured it into a container the older woman could carry. When Challenger, Roxton and Marguerite made their way to the breakfast table they found their sacks already packed and ready to go.

"What's all this?" Roxton asked as he drank the tea Veronica had made.

"The three of you are going to spend some time away from the Treehouse today," Veronica told them. "Ned's been doing well the past few days but I think he could use a little time alone. I'm staying here while the three of you go do a little exploring."

Challenger commented he'd like to investigate the dinosaur that the Zanga children had been pursuing. "A dinosaur with fur instead of scales represents a remarkable evolutionary development," he said as he picked up his own sack.

"I haven't had my coffee yet," Marguerite complained as she set her hat upon her head. Veronica smiled as she held up the container of coffee. "The room service here is superb." To Veronica she quietly added," Take good care of him. I think he needs you."

A short time after the trio had left, Veronica set the prepared dish of eggs mixed with peppers and onions on the table then used Challenger's toaster. She set out a fruit compote and more fresh coffee. She never drank the hot beverage but it was present nearly every day since both Marguerite and Ned enjoyed it.

Veronica sipped at her own glass of fruit juice as she waited for Ned and thought back over the past few weeks. The morning Ned went missing, he had told them the pond he was heading for and had promised to be back around noon. When he hadn't returned by the late afternoon, they had gone to look for him. They had found his journal and pen tossed onto the ground near the pond. Roxton had found the journalist's tracks and they followed to the abandoned camp. There had been signs of a struggle and they soon found the three Zanga children. It had been decided to return the children to their village. When they had learned what had happened Veronica had been filled with dread. These slavers had a reputation for cruelty and specializing in children. Bad weather had delayed the search for a few days but several of the Zanga had joined them in the search. Even with the Zanga's help it had been nearly a week before they had tracked the slavers camp near the inland sea. By that time Ned had already been tortured by the slavers.

Veronica had watched Ned struggle once they had returned to the Treehouse. His physical wounds were healing save for a few scars that would remain on his back. But the emotional wounds were harder to help him with. She found his silence and lack of self-worth the hardest to help him with.

Veronica was roused from her thoughts by the sound of glass breaking and she hurried to Ned's room. She could hear things being tossed around and something heavy falling. She hurried through his door to see him with a chair in his hands.

"Ned, what are you doing?" she asked as she came in.

He stopped suddenly and spun to face her. His face reddened and there were dark circles under his eyes. For a moment he just stared at her.

"Get out," he told her.

"Ned, please, talk to me," she said as she surveyed the mess. There were journals, books and bedding scattered across the floor. The nightstand was on its side and the mirror was shattered. "You've been busy."

She spied his watch on the floor beside his bed. She knelt to pick it up and looked at the American made Elgin. "I think this is the only time I haven't seen you wearing this."

"It doesn't matter," he said. His energy seemed to leave him and he sat heavily on the edge of his bed.

"Here, let me help you put this on," she said as she took his hand.

He pulled his wrist away from her. For a moment his eyes became unfocused and he shook his head to clear it. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

"I can't deal with this," he said. He looked at her and shook his head. "How can you stand to be with me?"

"I'm here because you're my friend, Ned. Challenger, Roxton, we all care about you. Marguerite may argue but you know she does."

"I tried to shave this morning," he said as he rubbed his stubbly chin. "I…I couldn't look at myself. I…" he hesitated. "I couldn't fight them. I tried to but…damn it." He got to his feet and moved away. "I don't know how to deal with this. Roxton wouldn't have let this happen to himself. I shouldn't have either."

Veroncia hurried over to him. She gently took his face in her hands and made him look at her. He tried to look or turn away but she gently held him. Finally his eyes met hers.

"Ned, look at me," she said gently. "You rushed in to help Jaddax and those children. You tried to fight them to give the kids time to get away. I know what you went through was horrible but you survived. You did what you could."

"I…I was ready to give into them," he said softly. "When…you found me. I was going to give them whatever they wanted to…to stop. I…I really couldn't take any more of that whip. Or…or those rod…rods." She could feel him shaking. "I…wanted to die, Veronica. Anything would have been better. What a coward you must think of me. I can't stop hearing them laughing at me…I can't sleep without feeling them…touch me. I don't know how to forget this, Veronica."

Veronica sighed trying to get her own emotions under control as she briefly wished the leader of the slavers was here so she could kill him a second time, only more slowly. She looked into Ned's eyes before she held him to her. She felt him tense for a moment but he didn't pull away.

"You will get through this," she said as she held him. "You have survived a horrible ordeal and I doubt you'll ever forget it. But let it make you stronger by realizing you survived. You saved those kids from those animals and you are so strong, Ned. Don't worry about Roxton or Challenger or Marguerite. All of us have something that has made us stronger and Ned, you are no coward. A coward would have walked away from those kids without a second thought." She looked into his eyes. "Maybe we should be asking you to forgive us."

He stared at her. "What on earth for?"

"For not having found you sooner. Those bastards had you for almost a week."

He shook his head. "You did what you could and you did find me. Besides, you had to make sure those kids were safe first."

Veronica held him to her and this time he returned the embrace. He didn't tense this time and a moment later he looked at her. Then he leaned forward and kissed her. She returned the kiss without hesitation. When they finally pulled apart he sighed as he looked at the mess he had made.

"I guess I should clean this up," he said but made no move to do so.

"First thing is first," she said as she held up his watch. She carefully wrapped it around his left wrist and fastened the leather strap. "I think your parents would be proud of the man their son has become. I know I am."

A soft rumbling noise came from his abdomen. She laughed.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Starving," he admitted.

"Come on. You're breakfast is probably cold by now."

"Veronica," he said before she could move away. She turned to look back at him. "Thank you." And the two embraced again. "You make me feel stronger, Veronica." For the first time in weeks, he felt a moment of peace. He might learn to live with what had happened to him but if and when they met any more slavers on the Plateau, he would do whatever he could to stop them.

The End

(A/N: This is the same story as before but with some changes. I hope it reads a little better than before and again I appreciate any constructive criticism. Thank you for taking the time to read.)


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